Two years ago, I decided to put my teaching career on ice. Full stop. And, however nonchalant this decision might seem now, the road that led to this conclusion was as bumpy as Hungary’s famously dodgy roads.
I was riddled with doubts, simply because completing the CELTA course successfully began to feel like a textbook case of the Dunning-Kruger effect seasoned with impostor syndrome. This controversy should have been enough to send me into self-torture, right? But no, it wasn’t. Eventually, this notion of not knowing enough invited the analytical part of my brain to engage in a frenzy of multiple self-deceptions. This unrealistic narrative began to force me to compare myself to native-speakers, and to those who’d lived, studied, or worked in an English-speaking country. (Today I’m well aware that I should have put this notion to its rightful place called oblivion.) However, the moment I was inclined to accept this ‘truth’ and believe how futile my attempt to become an English teacher had been, I immediately saw myself out of this league.
Looking back, maybe I should have listened to Del Boy-‘Roders, this time next year, we’ll be millionaires!’–and rather than throwing in the towel, doubled my efforts. One might claim my resilience wasn’t entirely sufficient to wait for the improvement in my teaching until I became confident enough to believe in myself. And I might see eye to eye with them, however–and I’m not seeking cheap excuses here–the financial climate back then wasn’t entirely supportive of my fads. Mind you, when has it been? So, with this freshly concocted resolution, I battened down the hatches and prepared myself to set to test myself on the job market. Fortunately, I didn’t have to hang about too long–within a few months, I was well out of teaching.
Even though I felt a bit of relief when getting back to the daily grind and landing an IT project coordinator position at a multi-national company–the spin-off of the former company where I used to be a web application developer–my addiction, love, and enthusiasm for this fascinating language called British English has never let up. So, my goal to sit a CPE exam and acquire the necessary knowledge to complete it successfully might perfectly demonstrate my daily cravings for improving my somewhat mediocre knowledge. And the fact that a C2-level knowledge requires not only a bulletproof vocabulary–or a Dirty Hungarian Phrasebook by Alexander Yalt–but also some insight into the British culture and everyday life, makes this objective all the more tempting.
To achieve my goal, I dusted off my language books and returned to a well-known online platform to find a teacher who could help me prepare for the exam. My next step, besides rescheduling my days and finding time to learn, is to gather the necessary information about the exam’s structure and what is required of me. And, seeing as life’s full of unexpected twists and turns, who knows–maybe one day I’ll be able to put that irritating Dunning-Kruger effect with his little mate, Monsieur Impostor, in bed and get back to teaching English. Probably in a care home where the stakes aren’t exactly sky-high.
I was riddled with doubts, simply because completing the CELTA course successfully began to feel like a textbook case of the Dunning-Kruger effect seasoned with impostor syndrome. This controversy should have been enough to send me into self-torture, right? But no, it wasn’t. Eventually, this notion of not knowing enough invited the analytical part of my brain to engage in a frenzy of multiple self-deceptions. This unrealistic narrative began to force me to compare myself to native-speakers, and to those who’d lived, studied, or worked in an English-speaking country. (Today I’m well aware that I should have put this notion to its rightful place called oblivion.) However, the moment I was inclined to accept this ‘truth’ and believe how futile my attempt to become an English teacher had been, I immediately saw myself out of this league.
As days went by and my lesson preparation began to turn into an endless task–not to mention the post-class documentation which we were trained to meticulously execute after finishing a lesson–various related aspects of teaching became Sisyphean labour. And, despite my students’ positive feedback, these nagging thoughts ultimately conquered me, coercing me to close up shop and look for a job.
Looking back, maybe I should have listened to Del Boy-‘Roders, this time next year, we’ll be millionaires!’–and rather than throwing in the towel, doubled my efforts. One might claim my resilience wasn’t entirely sufficient to wait for the improvement in my teaching until I became confident enough to believe in myself. And I might see eye to eye with them, however–and I’m not seeking cheap excuses here–the financial climate back then wasn’t entirely supportive of my fads. Mind you, when has it been? So, with this freshly concocted resolution, I battened down the hatches and prepared myself to set to test myself on the job market. Fortunately, I didn’t have to hang about too long–within a few months, I was well out of teaching.
Even though I felt a bit of relief when getting back to the daily grind and landing an IT project coordinator position at a multi-national company–the spin-off of the former company where I used to be a web application developer–my addiction, love, and enthusiasm for this fascinating language called British English has never let up. So, my goal to sit a CPE exam and acquire the necessary knowledge to complete it successfully might perfectly demonstrate my daily cravings for improving my somewhat mediocre knowledge. And the fact that a C2-level knowledge requires not only a bulletproof vocabulary–or a Dirty Hungarian Phrasebook by Alexander Yalt–but also some insight into the British culture and everyday life, makes this objective all the more tempting.
To achieve my goal, I dusted off my language books and returned to a well-known online platform to find a teacher who could help me prepare for the exam. My next step, besides rescheduling my days and finding time to learn, is to gather the necessary information about the exam’s structure and what is required of me. And, seeing as life’s full of unexpected twists and turns, who knows–maybe one day I’ll be able to put that irritating Dunning-Kruger effect with his little mate, Monsieur Impostor, in bed and get back to teaching English. Probably in a care home where the stakes aren’t exactly sky-high.
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